Sweet Desire, Wicked Fate

by Wray Ardan

  “Look, lady, my worthless sister and her fathead boyfriend jumped from the car and ran into a cane field. The asses left me alone to take care of my mom. I had to drive all the way to town. I had to do everything alone.” Shoving her hands toward Jezebel, she began flailing her arms in the air. “Did you see this? My mother’s blood is under my fingernails; now they’re ruined. I need to get home to clean them up and apply a new coat of polish.”

  “Calm down, child.” Jezebel slid her chair back from her desk, farther away from Ava.

  Ava mimicked her southern twang. “Calm down, child? Calm, down, child! Something bit my mom. She cut her head on a window. Look, are you going to help me, or—”

  Ava stopped mid-sentence as the swinging doors burst open. A nurse hurried into the lobby, quickly maneuvered Brooke into a wheelchair, and rolled the chair back out through the doors. Ava followed close behind as if she were attached to her mother by an umbilical cord.

  After Jezebel helped the nurse lift Brooke onto a bed, she guided Ava to a neighboring bed and rolled the screen aside so Ava could see her mother.

  “Where’s the doctor?” Ava demanded, sitting on the corner of the mattress, pointing and shaking her finger. “She’s just a nurse. My mom needs a doctor.”

  “It’s all right, darlin’.” Jezebel patted the pillow, encouraging Ava to scoot back and lie down. “Don’t ya fret. The doctor’s on her way.”

  Ava didn’t budge. She could tell from Jezebel’s demeanor that the woman thought she was a spoiled brat and that she didn’t want to excite Ava any further. This realization thrilled Ava. It meant she’d get her way.

  “Your mama is bein’ taken care of.” Jezebel stuffed her hands into the pockets of her white uniform. “Now, if it’s okay with ya, I’m gonna have the nurse give ya a sedative to calm yer nerves.”

  “Good idea—you think!”

  Ava doubted the woman could legally give her any medication. Even in the south, it has to be against the law to give a drug to a minor.

  Her eyes cut into the two women as they whispered back and forth. Then Jezebel walked over to another cart.

  The nurse caring for Brooke never looked at Ava. The woman’s attention stayed on her mother. When Jezebel returned, she handed Ava a white pill and a glass of water.

  Ava popped the pill into her mouth; a bitter taste coated her tongue. “Did you just give me an aspirin to help me relax?”

  “Just swallow it, child,” Jezebel said. Then she turned her head and mumbled, “Betasse.”

  “Hey, I understood that. My landlady speaks Cajun. Don’t call me stupid.”

  “Ya hear that one a lot, do ya?”

  “Real nice. Very professional,” Ava said, tossing another grenade of attitude.

  “I’ll be back with paperwork for ya to fill out.” Jezebel gestured toward a closed door. “Ya can wash up in there.”

  Ava looked at her mother’s blood on her arms. She wiped her eyes, but they were dry. She had run out of tears. She disappeared into the cold, antiseptic washroom.

  Cleaner, though not any calmer, Ava went from room to room, checking out the institution that she was relying on to save her mom. At least the inner workings of the so-called hospital appeared legitimate. It was smaller than a general hospital. It appeared sufficiently set up to actually help people—despite what she considered to be an unqualified staff.

  Down the hall were three small rooms, each holding four beds, all empty. Ava opened another door. The sterile room was set up for performing rudimentary surgeries. Everything seemed foreign to her. Yet right now she had to accept that this wasn’t about her. This place was her mother’s lifeline to recovery.

  When she returned, Jezebel was waiting for her, hugging a clipboard. From Jezebel’s expression Ava thought she was ready to lock her in a padded cell.

  “Don’t fret.” The beds springs objected as Ava plopped down. “I didn’t go off to find a real sedative.”

  Jezebel grunted. Repeatedly clicking her pen, she said, “Just explain to me what happened to yer mama.”

  “Something bit her. Look at her leg,” Ava half-hollered. The twitching of Brooke’s closed eyelids was the only sign that she was alive. “And she hit her head on the window. What's so hard to understand?”

  “Well maybe it’d be easier if ya’d stop barkin’ at me.”

  Apparently Jezebel had already had her fill. Squaring her shoulders, she stood like a pit bull prepared to defend itself.

  “I told you.” Ava shifted to the edge of the bed, closer to the woman. “A bug or some kind of animal bit her. What don’t you get? I have no idea what it was. I wasn’t there. My sister said to check her for plant poisons, too.”

  “Oh …” Jezebel clicked her pen closed and slapped it against the clipboard. “So ya tellin’ me a poisonous plant came into the house and gouged a hole in yer mama’s leg?”

  “Listen, if my sister said to do it, I’m sure she had a good reason.”

  “If ya were my kid, I’d go into a coma, too,” Jezebel said, walking away.

  “I didn’t come here to win a popularity contest. Just help my mom.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Datura was feeling good. Really good. Biting into Jaden had made her hungry. Her slender tongue skimmed over her lips, tasting the girl’s blood that lingered, blending with her own. It had the bitter flavor of raw chocolate, confirmation that Jaden would soon be faithful … devoted to them. A good reason to celebrate.

  Jaden was just the first course. No, she was dessert.

  “Let’s go to town.” Datura’s happiness filled the room. “I need a good feedin’.”

  “Yeah, it’s ‘bout time,” Ivan said. “I don’t just wanna fill my belly. I wanna gorge on some tasty human emotions.”

  Datura understood what Ivan meant. They all did. His unspoken words, pain, agony, abuse, were the flavors they all longed for.

  The Professor often shared with Datura that they satisfied his need to avenge himself against all those who had doubted his talents back at Cambridge. Even now, Datura could hear him as if he were standing right next to her. “Remember, my little darlings, having control over people is empowering. It’s exactly how a dictator feels, filling his subordinates with intimidation and dread.” The Professor had always encouraged those behaviors in them.

  Datura knew he would be upset with her for letting her blood mix with Jaden’s tonight. None of them were ever supposed to do what she’d done. Even so, it had felt so good. She’d lost control. Now she promised herself that she would never inject another human with her blood again. Or at least try not to.

  The sounds of life around her were inviting Datura to terrorize the town. Eating a raptor or snake wouldn’t do. No amount of raw food was going to appease her unleashed hunger.

  She had a hankering for one thing—the gratification of releasing her venom and knowing it was flowing through her chosen victims, making their bodies sick, altering their minds.

  “Mm, fear.” Datura’s tongue sliced through the air. “Like the Professor would say, it has such a distinctive, succulent bouquet.”

  The Mal Rous had been locked up too long. The others inhaled Datura’s cravings until her cravings became their own. Enhanced by the savory fumes of Jaden and Briz’s blood and the terror that still lingered in the shack, the Mal Rous were anxious to attach their fangs to human flesh.

  They’d been planning a feeding binge since the day they were set free. Now it was time to appease their insatiable appetites for gorging on the secretions of fright. Salivating with excitement, they charged into the field. Nighttime had always been when they’d thrived, the best time for the Mal Rous to stalk.

  As they approached town, Datura observed her siblings, the Professor’s pack of little darlings, panting with excitement, sniffing for a familiar odor. Things weren’t as they’d remembered. Some places were more run down, while others were glaringly new. Cane fields used to butt up to the dodgy bar that thrived on the outskirts of town. Now a brightl
y lit shopping mall scarred the ground.

  “This could be good.” Datura smiled. “More humans to play with. And I ain’t so sure any of ‘em is gonna get my sap to forget.” Somewhere deep inside, she could feel the Professor’s disappointment in her, but her need to indulge her predatory nature was stronger.

  Datura’s nose twitched. She looked at Esere. The sight of a few homeless people, drunks and druggies hanging out behind the mall, had caused the blood vessels in his eyes to bulge and sent him into a frenzy.

  Esere’s body vibrated as he squealed, “Starter food. No one’s gonna care ‘bout ‘em.”

  “What’s the fun in that?” Ivan patted the back of Esere’s head. “Let’s find us somethin’ worthwhile.”

  Esere growled, swatting Ivan away. Crouching down on all fours, Esere let out a howl and charged for the nearest human. Pulling up the man’s shirt Esere stabbed his chin horn into the man’s soft belly.

  Breathing in Esere’s excitement, Anders drooled at the sight of a teenage boy emerging from a metal door at the far end of the loading dock. Leaning against the brick wall, the kid lit a cigarette. The flame from his lighter illuminated his arrogant youthful countenance.

  Datura signaled to the others to stay back as Anders took off, scampering in and out of the lights and darkness. Sneaking next to the teenager, Anders cocked his large head and clamped down on the boy’s tender leg. The cigarette fell from the kid’s mouth as he yelled in pain. None of the derelicts in the alley seemed to care, and the building’s thick walls prevented anyone inside from hearing.

  Datura could sense Anders’s elation as his catch trembled under his touch. She felt the ecstasy as his teeth sank in, releasing his venom into the mouthwatering flesh.

  Paralyzed, the boy collapsed onto the ground. He would wake up sick and weak.

  Datura slapped Tig and Ivan on their backs. “Come on, let’s check out the rest of the town. These two are happy grazin’ here.”

  The smell of deep-fried fat dangled in the air as they neared the grungy cafe, making Datura long for bygone days. She missed the Professor, especially the way he’d changed after she’d bit him. From then on, instead of dropping them off in town and leaving them to hunt on their own, he’d stay and watch. A voyeur in the shadows, he let his desires surge. He lived vicariously through his creations, envying them as they assailed their human targets. Datura loved how their needs had become his.

  Ivan elbowed Datura, bringing her out of her reverie. He gestured at Tig.

  Mesmerized by the ice cream shop’s flickering neon sign, Tig was squeezing drops of poison from the tips of her tendrils. “After they close, let’s sneak in and add a little zest to the ice cream.”

  “Don’t think so,” Ivan responded. “I like watchin’ my victims suffer.”

  Tig released a long sigh. “I miss huntin’ with Talis.”

  Ivan gave a nod. Before her passing, Tig and Talis had been inseparable.

  Datura walked past the two of them, intent on finding a savory human sacrifice. Trusting her instincts, Tig and Ivan followed, scuttling behind trash-bins, hiding in the darkness. The warmth of the night settling on their skin comforted them, but it did not diminish their hunger. Passing a hole-in-the-wall bar, Tig spotted a man in the alley.

  “Come on, Ivs, Dat.” Tig twisted and squirmed from side to side. “I can’t wait no longer, I’m ready. I should’a stayed with Esere and Anders. They is havin’ fun while we is waitin’ for the perfect treat.”

  “Fine.” Datura’s tendrils cuddled against her head, soothing her. “Go on.”

  Tig eagerly pounced on the drunken man. Wriggling her tongue over his arm, she licked it clean before biting it and releasing her poisons. She dug her fangs in deeper, causing the man’s head to thrash back and forth. Releasing him, she sighed with pleasure and prepared to bite his other arm.

  “Let’s go.” Ivan leaned over. He spit on the man’s face and walked away, not waiting to see the poison ivy bloom and cover the stubble on the man’s chin. “I’m gonna find me a more tasty, healthy morsel.”

  The Professor always said it was about the joy of the chase, the act of violence. The scent of their catch’s fear when their fangs dug in. These were the emotions, the pleasures that motivated the Mal Rous to hunt. These were the sensations that Datura and Ivan hungered to experience now. Leaving Tig behind, they headed for the residential part of town.

  They made their way through tree-lined streets of older wooden houses. They were entering a subdivision of identical stucco homes when they caught a whiff of a girl. Jogging a short distance ahead of them, her firm legs called out to them.

  “That’s the one,” Ivan said, peeking out from behind a parked car.

  Datura was interested in this quarry too. But hearing the delight in Ivan’s voice, she backed down. For now she was content tasting the traces of Jaden’s blood in her mouth. Ivan was in for a good chase. Of course he’d win; he always did.

  Datura sighed, remembering what the Professor had once told her: There is such fulfillment in the act of pointlessly torturing and tormenting someone. There’s no mental challenge between right and wrong, only the need for victory, and you must achieve it in whatever way you can.

  She’d always loved the Professor’s feral nature.

  Datura followed Ivan as he zealously bounded after the girl.

  He wasn’t as fast as he used to be—none of them were—and the girl was moving at a good pace. It would take a few more outings before he would be back up to par. Still, he was in his element.

  The girl continued down the block unaware that she was being pursued. She jogged up to one of the houses. Ivan waited for her to reach the front door. Then he made a mad dash toward her.

  Datura loved the way the porch light lit up the horror that etched the girl’s face. Kicking at Ivan, the girl cried out for help, which excited Datura, while filling Ivan with more strength and determination.

  Like Datura, he’d always loved a worthy opponent. Even at this distance Datura could smell the fear exuding from the girls pores.

  The girl tried to put her key in the lock as Ivan lunged for her again. He spit gobs of saliva onto his filthy claw and jabbed it deep into her leg, removing it when the key dropped from her hand. She reached down, but it was too late; her fingers were curling under, cramping and burning. Ivan’s poison ivy was already penetrating her system.

  Datura grinned wide, her fangs throbbing as she watched.

  Ivan cheerfully looked up at the girl, extended another saliva-covered claw and stabbed it into her ripe, succulent thigh.

  This time the girl fell to the ground. Crawling over to the side of the porch, she huddled in the corner as if trying to hide from him.

  Datura could tell that Ivan wanted to taunt her more and make this playful little game last, but it had been too many years. He was too excited. Next time. Datura thought. On the next outing Ivan would tease his catch into exhaustion.

  With a rhapsodic hissing his forked tongue lashed out, sweeping over the girl’s neck. Pressing his lips to her skin, Ivan bit in, savoring her flavor. He leisurely released the venom. When she became still, he withdrew his fangs.

  The girl would never be the same.

  Datura and Ivan went to find the others.

  When the Mal Rous were gathered back together, Datura took charge, giving orders: “Infect vendin’ machines and door-handles. Just for a lark. After all, we is overdue for a good laugh,” she cackled.

  Phlegm dripped from Anders’s fangs as he panted. “Datura, let’s go find that horrible kid. It’s time for some payback. I want to chomp down on her skinny legs for when she kicked me.”

  For most of the night, while the Mal Rous went about their business, Datura had been mulling over comments the Professor had made to her long ago. She’d found this comforting, even though she knew that being sentimental was an oddly human trait.

  Dekle always said they hadn’t gotten any of his compassion. It seemed to her that after she’d bi
tten him, her blood had burned all the sentimental feelings out of the Professor, too.

  Again his words chimed in her head.

  “Cruelty, how dark it is. Revenge, how sweet it can taste.”

  CHAPTER 23

  Belle Fleur had never felt like home to Briz. Now it was less so. With Jaden still unconscious in the front seat of his car, he sped into town. Every pothole in the road grabbed at his tires. Most of the streetlights had been shot up by bored kids with hunting rifles. The few that remained gave off a faint glow and a crackling hum, as if they were prophesying what the night would bring. Briz was watchful, his attention skittering from one side of the road to the other. He was anticipating the creature from the black lagoon—or in this case, the mucky green bayou—to come charging at him.

  He swerved into the coffee-shop parking lot by the trailer. The light escaping from under the edge of Hubs’s curtains should have filled Briz with hope. Instead, doubt took hold.

  He meant to knock calmly on the hobbit-sized metal door, but his fist struck with force. There was no answer. He took in a sharp breath. Violet had said Hubs was the only chance for Jaden’s survival. Briz called out his name.

  The door opened.

  With great effort, Briz stretched his lips into a crooked smile. Now what? What do I say to get him to help us?

  “Hey, Hubs.” Gesturing toward his car, Briz kept his voice as calm as he could. “I … I need your help.”

  Normally when any kid Briz’s age approached Hubs, it was to play a joke on him. Briz’s saving grace was that he’d never been involved with their mean tricks. In fact, more than once, he’d called off some of his so-called school buddies and made them leave Hubs alone.

  He hoped Hubs remembered his good deeds.

  Hubs hesitantly followed him over to the car. The streetlight shone through the windows on Jaden. Her head hung limply, and foam dribbled from the sides of her mouth.

  A stammer and slow drawl were both evident as Hubs declared, “I-I d-didn’t d-do any-anything.”

  “I know you didn’t. But you’re the only one who can help her.” Briz scanned the parking lot nervously, expecting a Mal Rou ambush at any minute.